Griffin Quinn was my childhood pen pal, the British boy who couldn’t have been more different from me. Over the years, through hundreds of letters, we became best friends, sharing our deepest, darkest secrets and forming a connection I never thought could break. Until one day it did. Then, out of the blue, a new letter arrived. A scathing one - one with eight years of pent-up anger. I had no choice but to finally come clean as to why I stopped writing. Griffin forgave me, and somehow we were able to rekindle our childhood connection.

I met Bianca in an elevator. She was on her way to interview me when we got stuck. The beautiful raven-haired reporter assumed I was a delivery guy because of the way I was dressed. She had no clue I was really Dex Truitt, the wealthy, successful businessman she'd dubbed "Mister Moneybags" - her afternoon appointment. Bianca told me how much she hated Dex's type - snobby, over-educated, silver-spooned men who didn't appreciate the simple things in life.

It started out like any normal day. Then the fender bender happened. The guy I collided with drove an expensive car and was drop-dead gorgeous. Too bad he was also a total jerk. We argued over whose fault it was and any other thing that came out of his condescending mouth. Eventually, the police came and we went our separate ways. The insurance companies would have to figure things out. I had a job interview to get to anyway - one I was excited about. Though that excitement changed to disappointment the moment the person interviewing me walked in. The guy from the accident. 

It started out like any other morning on the train - until I became mesmerized by the guy sitting across the aisle. He was barking at someone on his phone like he ruled the world. Who did the stuck-up suit think he was...God? Actually, he looked like a god. That was about it.

He was someone who belonged in my wildest fantasies instead of a rest stop in the middle of Nebraska. A sexy, cocky Australian named Chance was the last person I expected to run into on my cross-country drive. When my car broke down, we made a deal. Next thing I knew, we were traveling together, spending sexually tense nights in hotels, and taking unplanned detours. My ordinary road trip turned into the adventure of a lifetime. It was all fun and games until things got intense.

The first time I met Caine West was in a bar. He noticed me looking his way and mistakenly read my scowling as checking him out. When he attempted to talk to me, I set him straight -- telling him what I thought of his lying, cheating, egomaniacal ass. You see, the gorgeous jerk had wined and dined my best friend-smooth talking her into his bed, all along failing to mention that he was married. He deserved every bit of my tongue-lashing and more for what he'd done.

I had a plan to escape the friend zone. Step one: sneak into Reed’s room. Step two: sleep with him. But when the lights turned on, it wasn’t familiar blue eyes I saw. These were dark, angry, and full of demons. And they belonged to Reed’s much-older brother. Four years later, Nash Prescott is no longer the help’s angry son. I’m no longer the town’s prized princess. At 22, I’m broke, in need of a job. At 32, he’s a billionaire, in need of revenge.

My relationship with Hunter Delucia started backwards. We met at a wedding. Stealing glances at each other throughout the night, there was no denying an intense, mutual attraction. I caught the bouquet; he caught the garter. Hunter held me tightly while we danced and suggested we explore the chemistry sparking between us. His blunt, dirty mouth should’ve turned me off. But for some crazy reason, it had the opposite effect on me. We ended up back in my hotel room. The next morning, I headed home to New York leaving him behind in California with the wrong number.

Evan Bryant wasn't your typical hero. But he was mine. Broken by the worlds' standards, he was still the strongest boy I would ever know. My best friend. The boy I'd given everything to. My heart, my body, and the promise of forever. The day I'd needed him most, he walked away. He left me shattered and questioning the love I'd thought we'd shared.

Bennett Fox walked into my life on one hell of a crappy Monday morning. I was late for the first day at my new job - a job I’d now have to compete for, even though I’d already worked eight years to earn it, because of an unexpected merger. While I lugged my belongings up to my new office, a meter maid wrote me a parking summons. She’d ticketed a long line of cars - except for the Audi parked in front of me, which happened to be the same make and model as mine. Annoyed, I decided to regift my ticket to the car that had evaded a fine.

It was the summer of my life. I’d met the guy of my dreams. Unfortunately, he was the son of my uppity employer - and very much off-limits. But Gavin was a rebel. He knew his mother would disown him if she found out about us; in his eyes, we just had to be careful. He never treated me as his mother did - like hired help. Instead, Gavin put me on a pedestal and loved me harder than I’d ever been loved in my life. 

Growing up, the three of us were friends. He was the nerd. I was the playboy. She was the beauty. Deep down, I only ever wanted her. I kept it inside because Rory and I made a pact that our friend, Amber, was off-limits. He lied. I went off to college, and he got the girl. Amber never knew how I felt. They were together for years - before he broke her heart. Through it all and across the miles, she and I casually stayed in touch. When my job sent me to Boston for a three-month contract position, Amber let me stay in her spare room.

I was only trying to help a friend. I swear. I was legit asking for a friend who was finally ready to date again. So I did what any good friend would do. Posted it for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time - I’d weed through the candidates, and bring her my top picks. But then he responded. Is it wrong to date the guy I screened for my bestie? Not asking for a friend.

I was upgraded to first class on a flight from London to New York. The food, champagne, and service were impeccable. The blue-eyed man sitting next to me, even better. He was suave and intelligent. We talked and laughed, and something clicked. Fate took over and the plane was grounded, and we had an unexpected stopover for the night. With no plans, we made our own. 

The first time I met Chase Parker, I didn't exactly make a good impression. I was hiding in the bathroom hallway of a restaurant, leaving a message for my best friend to save me from my awful date. He overheard and told me I was a bitch, then proceeded to offer me some dating advice. So I told him to mind his own damn business and went back to my miserable date. I couldn't help but sneak hidden glances at the condescending jerk on the other side of the room. Of course, he caught me on more than one occasion, and winked.